The Grey Monarch - Poem by nathan martin
a caterpillar with a pint of guinness
is no caterpillar at all.
my dry leaf cocoon remains
left in the corner of a dim
bar with a dark pint.
metamorphosis and stumble
scribble and shift so as not to
slur well maybe just a little as
I lean crookedly next to the urinal.
now a butterfly with a pair of cardboard
wings might still be a butterfly
as long as he's not cut off to soon.
my coaster telling me all i need to know
an empty glass to my right reflects in me
this sackcloth heart hung
on a barstool for moths
to perch and feed
metamorphosis curse and fade
seven more weeks until
my monarch days
seven more steps to the
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